kiss and make up
by mentaru
Summary: Castiel attempts to apologize to Dean.
1. no turning back

**A/N:** These were drabbles inspired by the idea of Cas trying to use "kiss and make up" as a legitimate way of apologizing to Dean after the events of _The Man Who Would Be King_. The first version is the "original" (angsty) version, but after I'd finished writing it, I decided I wanted to write a companion fluff piece, which essentially retells the original but takes place sometime in between _Mommy Dearest_ and _The Man Who Would Be King_. Chronologically the fluff version comes first, but it honestly doesn't matter which order you read them in. Enjoy!

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**no turning back ; post-the man who would be king**

The first time Castiel kissed him, Dean had just finished showering. The bathroom door opened to reveal the elder Winchester wearing nothing but a towel. Cas saw him jump when their eyes met, wished he would say, _Jesus Cas, don't _do_ that_, but Dean just frowned, his eyes burning into Cas' skin, and yet Cas couldn't bring himself to look away, or to even move.

"Hello, Dean," was all he said. Was that really all he could say?

Dean tried to move past him, but Cas grabbed Dean's face, awkwardly pulling Dean back toward him and shoving their lips together, their teeth clacking against each other briefly before Dean shoved Cas away.

"What the _hell_, Cas?" Dean demanded, watching Cas stumble backwards with that stupid dazed and confused look of his. "How the hell'd you get in here, anyway?" He grumbled something about someone needing to learn how to angel-proof the damn house properly. "And how long were you standing outside that door?" Not that any of it mattered; Dean knew everything he'd said until this point was rhetorical to Cas. He sighed, running his hand over his face. "Look, do angels just not know how to take a hint? What are you doing here?"

Cas frowned. "I don't understand," he said.

"No, you obviously don't," Dean cut in before Cas could say anything else. "Let me spell it out for you: you messed up, I can't trust you—none of us can. And your whole guardian angel thing is seriously entering the zone of stalker creepy."

Cas shook his head. "No, that's not the issue," he said, as if there could possibly be another issue besides _making a deal with Crowley and trying to hide it_. Dean opened his mouth to say something indignant, but Cas cut him off. "I was under the impression that 'kiss and make up' would be an appropriate course of action considering our... circumstances."

"Appropriate," Dean repeated flatly. "Cas. What the hell is wrong with you? If you hadn't noticed, you've become Crowley's little _bitch_. You didn't want to involve me or Sam, or _anyone_, so these 'circumstances' are all yours. And 'kiss and make up' ain't gonna cut it anymore. This isn't just some boo-boo you can kiss and make better—it's the goddamn Grand Canyon and _you_ dug it yourself. What'd be appropriate is if you'd get out of my way so I can put on some pants."

"Dean—"

"Don't _Dean_ me anymore," said Dean, shoving past Cas. "And don't be here when I come back out."

Cas stood there, watching Dean disappear down the hall and into one of the rooms, and Dean had to force himself not to look back.

There was no turning back now, not ever.


	2. thank god for balthazar

**thank god for balthazar ; post-mommy dearest, pre-the man who would be king**

The first time Castiel kissed him, Dean had just finished showering. The bathroom door opened to reveal the elder Winchester wearing nothing but a towel. Cas saw him jump when their eyes met.

"Jesus, Cas, don't _do_ that," he said, self-consciously adjusting his towel. Cas stared as if to say, _do what? _and all Dean could do was sigh. "Nevermind. But please tell me you just got here. Your timing really isn't helping the 'he doesn't live in my ass' argument."

"I arrived exactly two minutes and four seconds ago," said Cas, as if it was common knowledge.

"Great." Dean cleared his throat. "Good to know you're not some sort of creepy stalker perv guardian angel." Dean shifted uncomfortably when Cas didn't say anything and simply nodded instead. "Uh, Cas? Hello? Earth to Cas?" When he leaned closer to wave his hand in front of Cas' face, Cas closed the space between them, pressing his lips to Dean's.

Dean had to take a moment to comprehend the situation before pulling away. "Whoa there Castiel. Personal space, remember?"

"What?" said Cas, confusion flashing on his face.

"Balthazar dared you to do that, didn't he." It was more of a statement than a question, and Cas frowned, looking vaguely indignant. It was hard to tell with the One Expression Wonder sometimes.

"No, Dean, it was my idea. I was under the impression that 'kiss and make up' would be an appropriate course of action given the fact that I haven't always been there for you, and I wish to apologize."

"And kissing me was really necessary?" Cas didn't say anything and looked away. "Look, it doesn't matter. You came when it was important, that's what matters." He clapped a hand on Cas' shoulder for reassurance. "And, Cas, 'kiss and make up' is just an expression. Like, if Bobby told me and Sam, 'You stupid idjits, just kiss and make up already,' that doesn't mean he literally wants us to kiss."

Cas frowned. "Then why say it at all? Why would anyone say it unless at one time it _was _taken literally?"

Dean rubbed his hand over his chin, getting a little agitated that he was still standing there in only a towel and that they were even having this conversation. "I don't know, Cas. Just... at least warn a guy before you decide to lay one on him, okay?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"I understand," said Cas, nodding. "Next time, I will give you ample warning before attempting to 'lay one on you' as you so eloquently put it."

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but promptly closed it, looking slightly horrified as his brain processed Cas' words.

"Is something the matter, Dean?" As if he didn't know, that sly little—

Dean took a deep breath, letting it out in a heavy sigh. "Cas, you do realize there isn't going to _be _a next time?"

"Dean, you do realize that in approximately one minute, I am going to attempt to lay one on you."

"Cas—!" At the flutter of wings, Dean cursed under his breath, then darted down the hall and threw on a pair of jeans, for his own sake.

( Meanwhile, downstairs:

"Should I go up there...?" Sam asked, throwing Bobby a sideways glance.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Don't be an idjit. You really wanna walk in on their little marital spat?"

Sam could only imagine how awkward that would be. "Right. Good point."

"Just leave 'em alone, they're big boys. I'm sure they can work it out on their own. It ain't your job to be their marriage counselor."

Sam nodded and went back to his research. He'd need something to distract himself from his wandering thoughts... )

"Castiel, your wings are mine! You hear that? I will mount them above Bobby's mantle! No more disappearing and reappearing—" Dean froze, staring Cas in the face.

"You didn't mean that about my wings, did you?"

"Don't be stupid. I didn't even know you could _kill _an angel until you showed me."

"That is irrelevant. You could find a way, if you wanted. Winchesters always find a way—"

Dean's mouth was on Castiel's then, ever so briefly; kiss and make up. "You can keep your wings," he said. "They wouldn't fit above Bobby's mantle anyway." Cas stared, apparently still dazed from what had just happened. "But if you tell anyone what just happened, I _will_ find a way."

Cas watched Dean disappear down the stairs, and, as he fluttered away, replaying _that moment_ in his head, silently thanked God for Balthazar.


End file.
